


through the fire

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower compliant, F/F, NB Byleth, Other, Post-Timeskip, Speculation, Spoilers, for the other routes i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Collapsed on the cobblestone, listening unbearably to the terror that sweeps through everyone a witness to their leader writhing into a ball, barely tethered to consciousness by the skin of her teeth, she tries to regain her breath.The next wave of fire fractures that hope instantly.(Or, what might have happened if the Immaculate One lost control in Crimson Flower, affecting all who received her blessing -- aka one worst case scenario of a single-person blood donor drive gone wrong)





	through the fire

Of course she loses control at a most inopportune moment, and such in a way no one has foreseen.

Edelgard thinks she knows suffering in all its corners and variations—but _ never _ will she claim herself an expert on such things. But when her final orders before Fhirdiad die in her throat and a wildfire starts in her heart, sending her crumpling to the ground in a soundless scream, surrounded by allies and friends and the one whom above all _ knows _ what’s gone wrong—

She scorns her bloodline then, for its double-edged blade and the pitiable state it renders her. Collapsed on the cobblestone, listening unbearably to the terror that sweeps through everyone a witness to their leader writhing into a ball, barely tethered to consciousness by the skin of her teeth, she tries to regain her breath.

The next wave of fire fractures that hope instantly. She shatters the stone beneath her fist as if it can neutralize the agony, the other shredding at the inside of her glove. “My teacher… go.”

“Without you?” Their voice lacks its usual desolate tone.

“_You must! _” She hates the desperation that breaks from her lips. It’s also the first time she’s ever raised her voice at Byleth since the Battle of Garreg Mach. Shame gnaws at her, worse than the betrayal of her heart.

“But without you—”

They cut themself off as she convulses. 

It seems like an eternity until her heart stops thrashing, and she lies there numbly, feeling her vision warp and waver. Her tongue is cotton-heavy, her mouth stumbling over itself as she rages against the long-derided foe that haunts within, capitalizing on her entire will. Miraculously, she composes herself enough to form coherent words. “We cannot turn back. Time is irreversible, Professor. I’ll… I’ll be a liability. Go, now.”

She barely registers the grounding weight of Byleth’s hand against her back until it vanishes, leaving her alone to face the burning affliction. 

Perhaps this is her exaggeration, if it were only just. But words can’t convey the forlorn distance between her and Byleth as they complete her orders, rallying the Black Eagle Strike Force and compelling the full force of the army forth. The rumble of their movements, to some surprise, layers a moment’s reprieve to the matters of her heart. It allows her to think through the panic to a change preordained, never asked for, as they march without her. 

It’s amazing.

Amazing, how much she cherishes Byleth’s welfare over her own. The five years have bled through her resolve to hold them from afar, undeserving of them, even now, in spite of the months together chasing away the resurgent darkness in their absence. Could she be forgiven for her weakness then, if she gave in to the binds drawn by the Crest of Seiros, given by Rhea from a near-forgotten time? 

She convulses.

“How shameful… ” Her laughter rattles in her chest. “To be left behind… this must be my time.” 

“You have more than enough.”

“Professor!” And yet, Edelgard finds room for joy in hearing their voice, far beyond the confines of her current state. “You cannot linger here...” 

“I understand that perfectly, Edelgard.” 

Slow and steady in their motions, gentle hands turn her onto her back. They wipe the sweat beading on her brow with a handkerchief as they let her rest on the stone, their frown awakening fresh pain pitted deep in her chest. Far from a comfortable, idle silence, she basks miserably in their concern, trying in vain to stifle the tremors that wrack her body. “This pain… is of an unfathomable nature, but… I believe it’s tied to the Immaculate One.” 

“Your first crest,” they say, knowing, and she manages to smile, pain-addled and all.

“Yes… It appears our mortality is more intertwined to hers than I’d once thought. So whatever come what may, Professor, do remain alert. You must follow through.”

“Edelgard,” Byleth stresses, stroking her cheek. 

“You must go,” she rasps, even as she presses against the warmth of their hand. If this is her final form of contact with them wholly as herself, she will claim it like any other victory. “Survive. Prevail, like I said. But I… I…” The confession lodges in her throat, and she falters, her eyes falling shut.

A shroud of darkness, unlike its brand of preternatural calm, waits for her, crooning, beckoning. Her vision blurs, but she manages to catch someone in her image staring back. Through the distortion of her body, their red eyes bleed through the dark.

“Edelgard.”

She breaks herself from the vision’s grip to bask in Byleth’s gaze. She feels their hand against the bare skin of her back, soothing her still, leave to cup her jaw.

“Are you here?” Edelgard gasps. She keeps her hands by her sides, aching. She knows not what she’ll do if she loses control with Byleth at arm’s length.

Byleth nods.

She forces herself to a sitting position. Her head sags to their shoulder, clinging to the heady notes of plumeria, cinnamon, and the faintest of jasmine blossoms. “I will not slumber to the dawn of a new world. I will be as you left me, no more and no less.”

“And what if you change?”

“Then you might just have to kill me.”

“Edelgard—”

“_Byleth_.”

They flinch. She wilts. Giving in to yearning, her hands scramble to cover their own, clumsily brushing over their knuckles. She wants to bring them to her lips, but alas. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to invoke your name in that manner. I wish dearly to have you by my side for a bit longer.” A wave of pain sweeps through her, but she continues. “But I cannot keep you to myself. Such are the demands of the eleventh hour.”

Her breath stutters as they pull her into a hug. “I… I don’t intend to die tonight, my teacher.”

“You make it sound like you will,” Byleth murmurs beside her, a hint of warmth and something inscrutable in their tone. Their embrace deepens, and she suspects her cause for breathlessness is more than the burning in her heart. “When this is over, I’ll return. And you better be here. Do you hear me, Edelgard?”

“I do.” She clings to them, breathing in, searching for the jasmine blossoms. “I promise you. Now go.”

They leave her lying against one of the crumbling walls in the capital. Aymr and dagger are in reach, should a straggler try to finish off the Emperor of Adrestia in her weakened state, however unlikely. 

She drifts but never falls asleep. When that vision seizes her again and again, she looks to the stars, ephemeral above the Fhirdiad fires.

In the deepest blues, she finds rest.

//

**Author's Note:**

> this is like the one time i'm glad Edelgard and Jeralt are dead when this happens in VW and SS bc... Yeah 
> 
> this is pretty tame but i know it could be worse ;-;


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